


A Place For Everything

by kats_meow



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel season 3, F/M, Mild Kink, tie me up tie me down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 16:26:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18210743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kats_meow/pseuds/kats_meow
Summary: Post-The Gift  BtVSPost-Heartthrob AtSBuffy is really dead, Spike is really lonely, and Fred is really curious.





	A Place For Everything

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Rapunzel (unfinished WIP)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/466748) by jodyorjen. 



It’s what she always wanted, even the good girl who knew she shouldn’t want for anything. It should be enough being one of God’s children. Yet this fills a need that pancakes and ice cream could never touch. Maybe that’s why she was so hungry at the beginning. She never imagined it would be for anything besides food.

Unlike the others, he knows her; unlike anyone, he learns her from the inside out. Such a stab of intimacy when it first happened, so deep and fast, that now all other matters of privacy rub away under the gentle molding of his hands – no secrets, no pretense. For him, she’s immodest, naked in ways that don’t involve a lack of clothing, and here at least, she’s unafraid.

He pulls the knot tighter around her wrist. The small, jutting bone on the side of her hand fits into the groove of wood on the bedpost, the notches in his hipbones slide into place over hers. _The click._ She didn’t even have to speak it, only told him how she’d gotten exactly what she must have wanted in Pylea, exactly what she deserved. He’d given her a look of endless patience and calm, his brow furrowing only a little -- perhaps at the thought of what he’d do next. “No, you didn’t, love. Not even close.” He’d taken her hand in his, considered its weight and its structure, and then flattened it between his palm and the mattress. A tiny thrill burst within her, something that she knew he could feel by the look of quiet interest that dawned on his face. “This is what you want, then,” he said thoughtfully and it suddenly struck her how different this would be from collars and slavery.

His face is intent as he eases her back and under him; there’s play here but it’s no game. Together like this they exchange their most basic needs, and she finds it an even trade. Yet he still wears the remnants of what he lost, the cracks of what didn’t fit. When he first arrived, she saw a man so beautiful in his suffering that she almost didn’t want to make it stop. He's a creature so obviously untamed that her nervousness collapses inside of itself. She feels nothing but peace with him, this threat. He would kill her – his gaze says it, the possessive grip of his mouth on hers says it, the force of his hands when he first pulls her down says it – but he won’t, he won’t, he whispers it like a prayer to her in the dark, even as his body holds her bound and she relishes the dichotomy of it. Nature isn’t without her contradictions.


End file.
